Monday, January 21, 2008

shake it loose together

My subconscious has a terrible sense of humor. The more confidently I go forward and purge my waking life of the things holding me back, the more they just show up in my dreams, with faces and names, arguments and violence. Oh and today, Elton John.

I've been exceptionally busy and learning all sorts of important life lessons like how much to not charge for shipping prints to other countries. My Etsy shop is doing some hot business, as well as me just straight up selling more prints to people. And I have had a hefty influx of people interested in using my work with dollar signs attached.

In this process of making the things I have at my disposal work better for me, I took a trip to see my first doctor to see if she could lend me some guidance on what to expect, in regards to my current condition. While her firsthand knowledge was completely useless, she led me to The Butcher. As horrifying as his name is, my new colorectal doctor surgeon is nothing short of miraculous. No, he wouldn't have done anything differently up to this point. Except maybe not treat me like a specimen, rather a real, feeling human being.

But the next step of treatment will not involve any of the gruesome tightening and cutting that has been threatened up to this point because of something he recognized going on which would make said gruesomeness likely to basically ruin me for life. He sat by and listened to me, and questioned me thoroughly, and let me question him back until I had no qualms or confusion left. Not only that, but he said if I have any problems or pain he will get me into the office immediately. And he is only a 20 minute drive away. Doctor Butcher is my savior.

This weekend, Shanners and I spent a good chunk of time plotting how we can take over Manayunk one step at a time. Over nearly two hours we walked down most every street and alley, tagging all the Bros with their sporting paraphenalia, their dogs and I cataloged the better stairways and façades. Which I immediately set to work on making a wall of... over the spacey backdrop of the film Blowup. This guy is the kind of photographer I want to be. Replete with roughhousing, vacuous models in loud 60s garb, grouchy beatniks too high to speak or move, and murders that we forget about shortly after we stumble upon the possibility of their existence. Shanners and I pizza'd and got our art on hardcore. I also laid her out on her kitchen table for a quickie photo session to do something I had been envisioning for some time. After an arm transplant and 7 consecutive episodes of Heroes, we finally had to collapse under the weight of our deep meaning and mint chocolate chip ice cream.

This morning I was asked to be a participant in a study conducted by a doctoral student in South Africa on 'Identity and Self Image on the Internet". He wants to examine my self portraits over a year and and discuss my feelings about them in tandem with what is going on with my life. I found myself wondering if I would be amongst a cross section of myspace whores and other self-absorbed riffraff. I'm not sure I can bring myself to say ok with any enthusiasm, especially with the complete lack of anonymity because of the subject matter.

Despite all of the things that seemed to be crumbling around me the last few months and weeks, right now, I feel relieved. I feel better. Not healed, but better and lighter and just about unstoppable. I have a lot of work I need to do, but right now I am ready for it. My hand is no longer strained, it is willing. Lately, I can't stop making things and dreaming up better things while I am awake.

4 Comments:

I'm glad you've found a doctor that listens. I would suggest that for doctors, knowing how to really listen to patients is just as valuable as any clinical or diagnostic skill. And it's so good to hear of the recent surge in the supply of energy and appreciation and dollar signs. Your work is beautiful and it's only right for more people to discover and embrace it.